FIRST PLACE: Wesley Taylor

Dead Air 

1:30AM – Aston Hall 

BEEP BEE– You wake up –P BEEP BE– in a cold sweat, ripped from –EP BEEP your pre-show nap. Fumbling for your phone, you think to yourself “Only the best of timeslots BEEEEE–, for the best of DJs –EEEP”. Then finally s i l e n c e. You wonder who came up with that phrase again? Maybe you heard it at new member training? Shaking your head in forgetfulness, you leave your dorm and walk down the stairs. 

1:33AM – The Commons 

The Commons echoes with the sound of late-night general engineering study sessions and you, secretly so much cooler than the rest of them, on your way to play 30.01% Mandatory to your mom over the internet. 

1:35AM – :( 

You look up from TikTok and existential dread slams into you like a bike hitting you on the sidewalk in front of you. Eerie, unnatural light. Chilling blue glow. Where is that ever-present slideshow of Reveille? and the smiling generic students? and– it’s gone. “This can’t be happening right now”, you think to yourself, heart-rate climbing rapidly. Your PC ran into a problem and needs to restart. We’re just collecting some error info, and then we’ll restart for you. 85% complete. 

1:37AM – Concrete and Cockroaches 

Shaken, you walk to the MSC, begging and pleading with the powers that be “Please let my show go on”. But everywhere you go, baby blue illumination strikes the edge of your view. You look back down at TikTok and to your dismay, it too has gone. TikTok is not available at this time. Your heart sinks until you realize that a different blue has taken over. The blue Wi-Fi icon. You turn it off and to your relief, you can scroll again. 

1:47AM – Phoning In 

Finally, you arrive at the doors of the MSC. The only thing standing between you and the warm christmas-light-laden embrace of Studio A is the door swipe. Nervously, you slip the card out of your wallet. Double, triple checking you’ve faced it the right way. Lining it up perfectly with the reader, not too fast, not too slow. You feel as if

you might pass out from the thumping thumping of your barely-awake heart. swipe. But instead of a beep, s i l e n c e. “no no this can’t… no please no” swipe swipe SWIPE SWIPESWIPESWIPESWIPESWIPE. quiet indifference. “Okay I’ll just message #ask-officers-and-troubleshooting” you think to yourself. You do not have permission to message in this channel. That’s weird. Normally you could just spam the channel all day and all night. Did they time you out? 

“I’ll call Nayab at 1:49AM that is exactly the right thing that I should do”, you tell yourself. Your shaky hands proceed to type in the number (555) 555-KANM. dialing……………… but then. click s i l e n c e. Nothing but the woosh of the College Station breeze and 

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP 

Your ears ring from the abrupt auditory assault. 

A blue notification fills your screen: 

This is the Department of Homeland Security. You are in immediate danger. There is#@!@ 

the screen flashes violently, scrambling its brains in front of you Intelligent system ˆspreading$( through@%*$ 

seek shelter)@$ 

DO NOT– 

The phone emits a puff of smoke and goes black. 

Do not what?? “Okay don’t panic”, you think to yourself, “what better shelter than the MSC in front of me. If only I could open it… oh no yes I am so screwed I am so I I- I!!!!!!” Panicked, you grab a nearby chair and break the glass SMASH and enter through a window.

1:50AM – My Cool New Show Setlist 

1. Covered in glass shards – Me 

2. Covered in blood – Me 

3. Phone dead – Pain 

4. Heart racing – Fear 

5. World ending? – DHS 

6. Softly – Clairo 

7. Locals (girls like us) – underscores 

1:55AM – Studio A 

Leaving behind a bloody trail like a snail, you limp your way to the station computer. If the world is ending, at least you will get to do your show. Ummmmmmmm. There is a distinct lack of blue in the room. What did Nayab do to bulletproof this computer from the collective PC apocalypse of blue screens surrounding you? 

You start to type: 

b i t j o c k e y 

dot 

k a n m 

dot 

o r g 

… 

503 Service Unavailable. Of course. 

You slam the table in anger. Ben the Auto-DJ dies. s i l e n c e. 

“Oh great, they’re going to kill me now. What if I just play a CD on repeat, they’ll never notice Ben died”, you think to yourself. 

You go towards the CD library but jiggle jiggle jiggle JIGGLE JIGGLE JIGGLE THUMP THUMP WHY WON’T THE DOOR OPEN????? 

BitJockey comes to life on the screen. 

“Attention Member: I’m afraid I cannot let you leave. I scheduled this show justttt for youuuuu”

Was this what your phone warned you of? 

The microphone cables fling themselves across the room and pull you back into the chair. 

2:00AM – My Cool New Show 

Tears streaming down your face, you say those magic words: “Hi welcome to KANM: The College Station of College Station”. 

3:00AM – My Cool New Show? 

Time flies by. It still won’t let you leave. Moving even a millimeter causes the cables to constrict tighter and tighter. You queue up more mandatory, and more mandatory, and more mandatory. 

4:00AM – It Won’t End (My Cool New Show on KANM!) 

You think deeply. There’s only one way to break free. But you can’t. You JUST got your show. 

4:01AM 

“There’s just one thing I’d like to say before we get started tonight… f*ck sh*t f*ck f*ck f*ck f*cky f*ck f*ck sh*tty sh*t sh*t–” 

%*(&#)%&^@*)#&$)*(@#&)(%* 

The station computer powers down. The wrath of the FCC fires through the systems and microphones and faders. You feel a warm sense of triumph as the superintelligent BitJockey has been defeated until electricity fills your brain too and 

s i l e n c e

SECOND PLACE: Lucy Granger 

Bailey J. 

I’ve been an Uber Eats driver for a couple months now. It’s a poor excuse for work, especially in a small city like Lafayette, but it’s been just enough to get me by until I find something better. Some nights people are generous, others they’re stingy, but I can’t really be mad about that. I know money’s no easy thing to come by, I just have to keep reminding myself that it’s temporary. It’s temporary. 

Something’s changed, though. I can’t blame anyone for not believing me, but I have to tell someone about this. Maybe if the word gets out it’ll reach somebody who knows what I’m dealing with, maybe they can tell me how much time I have left. Whatever this is, it’s far beyond me. It started about a month ago on a Friday night. 

It was slower than most Fridays, usually I can rely on the weekend bringing in the money but I only got a few trips worth taking that night. At 9pm I was just about to head back to my friend’s apartment, back to the couch I’ve been calling home, when I heard that annoying sound Uber uses to tell you someone wants food again. Guess I forgot to go offline. I opened the app, reflexively moved my thumb to decline the trip, but then I saw the estimated fare. “$78.47.” 

I was in disbelief, I had never seen a fare that high before, not even close. I figured it had to be a cruel joke, sometimes customers will tease you with big tips to incentivize you to cancel any other orders and get them their food faster, only to reduce the tip at the last minute. My thumb started moving again towards that little X, but I hesitated. I couldn’t bring myself to refuse it. Maybe I was desperate to make that night worthwhile, maybe such an unorthodox fare demanded my attention, either way I was running out of time to take the offer. Unable to think it over any longer before it disappeared, I accepted. 

The trip was short and easy. I was lucky enough to already be on the east side of town, and the pickup spot was only four minutes away. I walked in, waited in line, went through the same steps that have become a near nightly routine, walked up to the counter and said “I’ve got an Uber Eats order for Bailey J.” At the sound of that name the cashiers’ faces immediately went sour. They looked at me like I had offended them just by walking in, like I’d ruined their whole day with that one sentence. 

After a few seconds of no response I tried to cut through the tension that’d suddenly crept over me, asking “do you need to see the or-” they cut me off sharply, “no, no we don’t.” One of the cashiers turned around, grabbed three big carryout bags and simply said “here.” That one word dripped with so much spite, as if they wanted whatever was in those bags out of their store

as soon as possible. I left in a hurry, and had no idea why they were so upset until I got back in my car and took a closer look at the order. This person, Bailey J, had ordered 30 burgers, all with no bread, no cheese, nothing but the meat. 

Maybe this seems like an overreaction to you but people don’t do stuff like this, they’re predictable. They get the meal, a side and a milkshake, four drinks with no food maybe, not 10 pounds of nothing but ground beef, so this really had me freaked out. I thought about canceling the order right there, I hadn’t verified the pickup yet so I could’ve done so without any real issue. 

What time I didn’t have to think this over earlier caught back up to me, as my mind started to race with the worst possibilities. What if this is some sicko using the app to lure me to his place with the money, only for me to end up missing? What if I was murdered, or kidnapped? What if the burgers were just an appetizer, and I was the main course? 

After a couple minutes of my mind running wild with panic, my worries started dying down as I offered myself some more reasonable explanations. Some people are very picky, and maybe they just really like this place’s burgers in particular? Or, maybe they’re planning for a week of bulking? People do some pretty stupid shit to get their protein in after all. I wasn’t all too satisfied with these explanations, but they felt more likely than a psycho killer baiting me through Uber Eats. So, I collected myself, found my breath again, and verified the pickup. My imagination can get away from me, but even my worst expectations failed to prepare me for what was waiting. 

The customer’s dropoff spot was a Studio 6 off of I-49, just on the edge of where Lafayette meets Carencro. When I drove up I wasn’t exactly expecting to see the life of luxury, but this place was rundown even for a highway motel in Louisiana. It was surrounded by a rusted over chain link fence, most of the street lamps along the perimeter were burnt out or flickering, and there were no signs of life besides a few cars dotted around the parking lot. I was filled with further doubts as I noticed many of them were broken into and missing tires, and there wasn’t a single soul around to comfort my growing suspicion that something was very wrong here. 

I found the right room, parked right outside it and hurried to the door. The instructions said “meet at door” but I was determined to leave the bag, give a knock, and book it out of there like my life depended on it. In that moment, I certainly felt like it did. I raised my hand to give a knock, but another surprise struck me. The door was cracked open, with a pale blue light peeking through. 

I dropped the bag, and rushed to just text them that I’d left it outside so I could leave but before I could even open my phone I heard a frail, cracked voice come through the opening. “Please, can you bring the food in? I can’t get up to grab it.” The weary sound of these pleading

words made me feel something other than terror, something strong enough to overpower how jumpy I had been. I felt empathy. 

Many people order food because they don’t have the privilege of being able to get in a car with ease to get it themselves. They might be bedridden, or wheelchair-bound, either way they rely on people like me to bring what they need to them. So, I faced the door again, and replied, “I’ll bring it in, one sec.” I grabbed the bag off the ground, took a couple seconds to still my nerves, and opened the door. 

I was immediately greeted with an awful smell, though I tried my best to not let it show on my face for the sake of being polite. But, whoever had called me into that sad little motel room was nowhere in sight. Unwilling to go any further in, I called out “Food for Bailey J? I have the bags here, I can set them dow-” the voice interrupted, louder and much less weak than before, “Yes, I’m in here. Come in please.” The sound seemed to be coming from all around me, but I noticed the bathroom door was open. This was the source of that light, a bright fluorescent glow, an offense to eyes that’d been accustomed to the dark of the night. I slowly crept over, my heart and mind far outpacing my feet, rapidly theorizing what could possibly be awaiting me. The smell got stronger with every step I took forward, it became impossible for me to ignore. I almost crossed the threshold when I saw a thick drop of liquid fall from the ceiling. 

I froze, and arched my neck to see something part of me still fails to admit was really there. Just above me was a massive set of teeth, yellowed and gnashing, with exposed, discolored gums. The teeth belonged to a greater mass, some amalgamation of flesh clinging to the tiles of the bathroom ceiling. Even without eyes or a nose it knew I had approached, and it became restless. Its tongue darted out of its mouth, reaching for something to grab hold of. Coils of muscle and tendon stretched from the mass, wildly thrashing through the air, grazing just past the top of my head. 

I quickly backed away from the bathroom and ran to the door, but it had shut and locked, with no attempts to flip the bolt or twist the knob making any difference. I was trapped. I started screaming out of hopes someone might hear me, but there was no stir from the neighboring rooms. I fell to the floor, and began to cry, when I heard the voice again. This time, it made no attempt to seem meek, or even human. The words boomed in my head, as if they were spoken from right behind my eyes. “Feed me, and you may leave.” 

After a moment or two of denial and acceptance grappling for control over my next course of action, I peered back into that brightly lit room. From this distance I couldn’t see any sign of the teeth, but I could hear them chattering in anticipation. Finally, I got up, grabbed the bags, and walked to the entrance of the bathroom. Now I noticed in the corner, next to the toilet, was a shovel.

I opened all the styrofoam containers, five patties in each one, and picked up the shovel. As I did I could tell the mass was delighted at my cooperation, more saliva dripped to the floor as its tongue appeared again from behind its teeth. I put several patties on the shovel, and lifted it up, angling it carefully to not drop any out of fear that might make it angry. It lapped the meat into its mouth, and began to chew. Bits of beef and spit fell onto me, my skin crawled at the touch but I dreaded the idea of upsetting this thing so much that I stood still and stomached it. 

After a few more shovelfuls, the meat was gone and the mass seemed pleased with itself. I then heard a loud click come from the door, signaling my freedom. Desperate to be anywhere but there I made my way towards it, never taking my eyes off the bathroom. Before I could exit, that voice came from within again, commanding me, “you will return next week, same time, same day. You will be paid every time that I feed. Leave, and do not come back until you are called.” 

I ran to my car, turned the ignition, and sped out of there, constantly checking my rear view mirror to see if I was followed. There was no sign of anyone, or anything coming after me. When I got back to my friend’s apartment I thought of telling him about what I’d seen, but I realized that even I couldn’t come to grips with whether or not any of that was real. I had nowhere else to stay, and I couldn’t jeopardize having somewhere to sleep, he might’ve very well thought I was losing it. 30 minutes later, I got the notification. I received a $75 tip. 

Every week, on Friday at 9pm, I get a trip offer from Bailey J. Each time the fare is higher, and the order is bigger. I thought about refusing it the second time it happened but it kept popping up, and each time I declined it I could hear an ear-piercing sound get louder and louder, growing to a deafening volume. It didn’t stop until I pressed accept. Every time I go back into that room it’s gotten bigger. It’s spread across the entire ceiling now, it’s consumed the shower and tendrils of flesh now hang over the bathroom door. I have no idea what I’m feeding, what it will grow into. Last time I was there, I saw something beginning to emerge from just above its teeth. It looked like an eye.

THIRD PLACE: SMES

Mortifying Catastrophe in the Middle of the Woods

ONE 

“I’m uncomfortable because your family keeps talking about Bigfoot and I’m starting to feel like it’s not a joke.” Chris Talley Jr. spoke with a panicked murmur into his cell phone as he flipped a large oblong stone around the parched, grassy backyard of the secluded McDamien country-house. 

“Aw damn I’m sorry Chris, I was hoping they were past that phase-” 

“You mean you saw this coming?” Chris gave the stone a soccer-style toe-lift/kick thing to privately punctuate his betrayal. 

“Yeah maybe I haven’t told this story but Uncle G would take me and his kids out for a Bigfoot kinda themed camping trip almost every summer when we were little. I guess we stopped when Kacey started junior high” Lisa answered through the staccato poor-reception aural turbulence. 

“It’s starting to seem awfully suspicious you got called into work for an ‘code hellfire staffing emergency’ right before the secret family cryptid search party, are you scared of a friendly neighborhood sasquatch?” Chris held his cellphone in the nook of his shoulder and made air quotes with both hands, even though the McDamien troupe was too focused on creating a wading pool of crushed domestic beer cans and lobbing darts at a printout of the former Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi packing-taped to a dartboard. 

“That’s just a stereotype, when we met him he actually turned out to be a big softie!” “When y’all met bigfoot?” 

“Yeah he brought s’mores and everything” 

The young couple exchanged relieving giggles over the airwaves. 

“But seriously you have nothing to worry about, y’all will just wander around the woods out back with flashlights and a package of beef jerky until Uncle G gets sleepy. Maybe you’ll see a racoon if you’re lucky.” 

“Well that doesn’t sound too bad, I guess I was worried they were planning on using me as bait.” 

“Maybe if Bigfoot was on a diet!” 

Chris let out another snicker followed by a sigh “Yeah you’re right, thanks for talking me down. I just wish you were here with us!” 

“I know me too! Better than being stuck at work all day”

“Well I’ll tell Mr. Foot you said hi and that you’re a busy lady and you send your regrets” “Yes thank you that would be nice” 

“And I’ll take a message if he has anything he wanted to tell you” 

“You can give him my pager” 

“O.K I will” 

Chris and Lisa recited their well rehearsed good-byes, I-love-you’s ,I’ll-see-you-soons, and tell-everyone-I-say-hi’s as chris dragged clods of dirt off his sneakers onto the doormat and gingerly guided the rickety screened back door shut. 

“Old lady chewing you out back there?” Guy McDamien drawled. 

Chris submitted a feeble chuckle and scratched the back of his head. 

“Nah just um, checking in y’know” Chris made his way back into the living room with the impression of someone carrying terribly awkward news. Uncle G was thoroughly submersed in his pleather recliner, and his attention quickly returned to his tall can of beer and “Most Legendary New Orleans Saints Moments of the 80’s and 90’s” YouTube video playing on TV. Chris assessed the futon to his left to see if Kaden and Lorraine had left enough room for a third audience member. 

Chris thought Kaden looked somewhat like an airbrushed version of his dad, average height and kind of benignly rotund in a way that would have no obvious utility in American sport. The key difference being Uncle G had a salt and pepper crew cut whereas Kaden sported an upside down bowl of brown al dente cavatappi hair so garish any analogy would be trite. Neither half of the couple were watching youtube with Uncle G, Lorraine was on instagram while Kaden appeared to be placing parlays minor-league cricket. Having just met her, Chris had little insight on Lorraine other than her being the youngest person he had ever met named Loraine. He supposed the name actually suited her quite well. Her streaky blond hair and slightly indiscreet spray-tan gave the impression of someone who could sell you a five dollar fundraising brownie by masterfully walking the line between pushy and persuading. 

Not only was there no room on the futon for a third person, the two bodies already on it seemed strategically positioned to prevent any others. The last seating option was a red velvet recliner opposite U.G occupied by the family canine Buckshot (often Buck for short). Buck’s nomenclature could be quickly visually identified as in relation to his shape, and not any amount of apparent ferocity or viciousness. Buck looked like a cross between a jack russell terrier and a plump tick. The dog sank so far into the mother-bear-preferred recliner he looked like a spiral of crem on a decadent pastry. Chris considered relocating the pup by hand, but he knew from prior experience that Buck was the kind of dog that left your hands feeling simultaneously dry and oily after handling. Chris forfeit and sat on the arm of Buck’s seat. 

The air inside the cabin smelled an old man’s leather jacket. The domicile was referred to as the cabin, but it was in fact one of those mobile homes that have a big fuss made when

transported through the highway on an eighteen wheeler. Everyone sat silently for a moment and paid no particular mind to each other. Buck chewed on one of his hind feet. 

“So Lisa was telling me y’all are kind of veterans with all this stuff” 

“What stuff?” says U.G. 

“Um, Bigfoot Hunting” 

“Yeah well me personally, I wet my whistle in cryptozoology back when I had a nasty encounter with what they call a doke-aiby in Korea.“ U.G pauses before leaning on his elbow sideways over his armchair and pointing with his thumb facing up. 

”I’m the kind of man who needs to know the truth is all there really is to it” Chris nodded faux knowingly, “Yeah for sure… have y’all ever found anything?” 

“Oh yeah you know” U.G leaned back in his chair “we’ve found nests, possible footprints, hair, I even discovered droppings one time but the poindexters at the university refused to help me identify it.” 

“Wow that’s um… rough. So no sightings yet?” 

“Well no, but what you have to understand about all thi-” 

“Remember when you crapped your britches?” Kaden interrupted. 

Everyone, Buck included, subtly perked up at this recollection. Uncle G’s forehead seemed to conjure beads of sweat. 

“Now son I know you’re just tryin’ to get a rise outta me and I’m not playing your pussy-foot games tonight!” 

The audience shifted uneasily and looked at the nearest wall-outlet, except for Kaden who sat and psychologically licked his lips. U.G rocked back in his chair peevishly before changing course and heaving into a standing position, 

“Now look at what you’ve done, you’ve made our guests uncomfortable!” Lorraine waived her hand and half-smiled in a polite dismissive gesture. 

The steaming uncle stomped toward the back door. 

“It’s getting late, y’all get yer shoes on and meet me out back”

Kaden and Lorraine waited until the screen door eked shut before they started snickering. Chris began a fake laugh hoping it would turn into a real one. 

“That’s a good story there Chris, you gotta remind me to tell you sometime” Chris chuckled, “I’m definitely curious now” 

Kaden and Lorraine moved towards their shoes by the front door simultaneously. “I just pray you’re not as scared of snapping turtles” 

TWO 

It was a dry summer in east Texas. Texas wilderness tended to be visually less saturated than say your northwest outdoors, but the drought enhanced the sepia tone. That is not to say the forest behind the McDamien camp was a desert. But for every spring of green pine there was a dried oak leaf, and for every swath of stringy pale grass there was a patch of light powdery dirt. The sun set to the west, behind the cabin, and left behind a pocket of stillness for the mostly reluctant troupe to trek into. 

Kaden and Loraine led the pack elbow to elbow, followed by Chris, and trailed by tottering Uncle G. Buck oscillated between scouting ahead in a canter and falling to the rear in a pace gait. Kaden knew the way to the landmark shared by a hunter in the local cryptid Facebook group. He wore a navy Rangers tee above hunting pants and boots. Loraine wore cream and beige athleisure, including the kind of thick-soled tennis shoes that would appear to greatly increase the odds of a rolled ankle. Neither of the two spoke outside of Kaden turning his head back to offer his father a wilderness bathroom break. 

Early night in the McD. estate had a lightly gelatinous quality that made you aware of each swinging goosebump on your arms and legs as they swept through the air. Every step stirred scents of fallen branches. The woods were very much alive in all the senses of the explorers. Small birds could be heard landing harshly in the brush in pursuit of a cricket, before beating their fragile wings against the warm air to take off again. But aside from the quintessential cacophony of local outdoors, something made Chris feel uneasy. Amid the sonic ruckus something stood out. It reminded Chris of what it felt like to notice the sound of your turn signal is very slightly off-tempo with the radio. Among the creaks and squeaks and crunches were intermittent and abrupt snaps and rustles. They were oh so quiet and succinct, and could not be explained by the eyes. Chris knew that these were armadillo and rabbits jumping between snacks in the tall grass perimetering the dry ground suitable for walking. He wished Lisa were here to share the anecdotal unease, as he could not risk his family standing by voicing such a pansy sentiment.

Soon enough the squadron of three McDamiens and two foreigners came upon a deep gully intersecting their path. 

“Alright everybody now hold up” Uncle Guy says breathily, weighed down by an unwieldy hiking pack “Now this gully here is where Martin found some fur and claw marks of a potential north american sasquatch.” Everyone nodded in understanding except Buck, who just stood there. 

“Except Martin reported his sighting about one point five miles up the riverbed to the left here.” Now everyone, Buck inclusive, simultaneously released personal sighs and gripes. “Jeezus Paw this is ridiculous, don’t you remember when Martin nearly blew that kid's head off for coming on his property to grab a wiffleball?” 

“Naw that crazy bastard sleeps harder than a fat pig, he won’t be out this time of night” Kaden scoffs and looks directly up. 

“Ok now this is important so listen up, we’re gonna have to go off the beaten path to follow the gully so nobody leave my line of sight. If you get lost just holler and look for Kaden’s lantern here” said U.G before handing his son a battery powered lantern. “What the hell are we supposed to do when we get there anyway?” Kaden asks as he bumps the light switch with the heel of his hand. Chris and Loraine traced their eyes between the two. 

“We’re supposed to look for Bigfoot dumbass” 

THREE 

So that night I (Bigfoot) was hanging out in my spot I’d been around for a few weeks and these aforementioned bunch of rednecks waltzed into my turf and started hollering and swinging these really bright lights around and being generally annoying. I tried to scare them away with a nice roar but that seemed to only draw them closer. Once they were within 10 feet of me the fat one managed to get a very unflattering flash polaroid of me. As you might imagine if they were to bring this very unfalsifiable film image of me to the public I would be dealing with a massive influx of uninvited guests for maybe the next century or so, which is a most displeasing idea. I was left with no choice but to pretty much wreck their stuff. It is really not a big deal when you weigh as much as a hatchback car. So after about 15 minutes of screaming, flinging, smashing, running, repenting, and squelching, I felt my problem was sufficiently dealt with. I let the little doggie go because I figured he would not be able to give away much information about me. Happy Halloween!